


U is for Undercover

by scarletmanuka



Series: V/V Alphabet Challenge [21]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka





	U is for Undercover

The hut was cold, and damp, and Sam resigned himself to an uncomfortable night. They had been investigating several missing persons, and had concluded that a rogue werewolf pack were responsible, but they seemed to also be caught up with a smuggling ring. Angua and Sally were following up their latest lead about the pack, Cheery and Igor were working forensics at the docks, where several victims were last seen, and Carrot was questioning the witnesses. They had needed someone to scout out a possible hideout for the smuggling ring, and Sam had given himself the task. 

They had heard whispers that the smugglers frequented a tavern in the middle of the woods, halfway to the Ramtops. Away from the city, comfortable in their remoteness, Sam felt this was the best place to catch them out as they were less likely to be on their guard. He had packed a wagon, dressed himself as a hunter, and had ambled into the area, asking where the best places to hunt deer were. He’d circulated around the tavern, buying a few rounds, and therefore lifelong loyalties, before heading out into the wilderness to a chorus of well wishes.

He had stumbled upon the hunter’s cabin not far from a well used campsite, and he had settled himself down to wait and watch.

He had just made a cup of tea when he heard someone approach. He pulled out his sword, and stood behind the door to hide. He heard the creaking of the floorboards as someone crossed the porch, and tensed as the handle on the door twisted. The door was slowly opened and he pounced, grabbing the intruder from behind, an arm around his neck and the sword at his throat.

“Really, Sir Samuel, if that anyway to greet your boss?” Vetinari asked, calmly.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Sam spluttered, still holding the man against him.

“To be honest, I was growing a little bored on the ongoing dance I’m having at the moment with the Klatchian Ambassador. I’ve left Charlie in my place, and I thought I’d have a little holiday.”

“A holiday? Here? In the middle of bloody nowhere, where I just happen to be trying to track down a smuggling ring?”

Vetinari gave a slight shrug - the most he could manage with Vimes’ arm still wrapped around his throat. “I felt like it might be rather interesting.”

“Interesting is you sneaking in here and almost getting yourself killed!”

“I did not  _ sneak _ , Commander, I was sure to make enough noise to announce my presence. If I had wanted to, I would have had no troubles getting in here without you being at all aware of it.”

Sam had to give him that one - the man was an expert of stealth. “Still, it was too risky.”

“Be that as it may, I am here now, and still in one piece. Now do you think there’s the possibility that you could let me go? I feel my windpipe is getting rather bruised.”

Letting go quickly, Sam stepped back. Vetinari reached up and rubbed at his throat, and even in the dim light of the hut, Sam could see the skin was red and blotchy. “Tea?” he asked to cover up the awkward silence.

“Please.”

Sam made another cup of tea and they both sat at the rickety table, where Sam could keep an eye out the window. The camp was not too far away and he figured he’d be able to pick up traces of movement from here. The sky was overcast, and it was growing darker by the minute. He would have to put out the fire soon so they didn't give away their position, so he didn't have long before he lost the light entirely. He said so to Vetinari. “If there’s anything you need to see to do, best do it now.”

“I have excellent night vision, Sir Samuel. I’ll manage.”

Sam grunted, and stood to sort through the items he had brought with him. He pulled out some sandwiches, several blankets, and then put one last pot of water on to boil. As it did, he handed a blanket to Vetinari. “It’ll get cold soon once the sun sets.”

The Patrician accepted the blanket, and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Once the water was done, he made up a full pot of tea, and doused the fire, putting the kettle into the coals to keep it as warm for as long as possible. Then he lit a cigar, and sat down.

“The camp looks well frequented,” Vetinari commented as Sam took his seat again.

“I noticed. There’s an amply supply of firewood, and a fire already laid. I’d be surprised if they didn't show up tonight.”

“Can you be certain that it’s the smugglers and not some of the locals?”

Sam shook his head. “There’s no way to tell, but it’s our best shot.”

They fell silent, and sat drinking their tea as night fell. Although their relationship had evolved over the years to a mutual respect and co-dependency, Sam still found it difficult to make small talk with the Patrician. He knew very little about the man’s personal life, but if he had to guess, he’d say that there wasn’t much to know about. Other than talking shop, there were few topics of conversation they could explore to pass the time.

“Sir Samuel,” Vetinari said, sitting up straight in his chair. “Someone is coming.”

Sam stood to peer through the window, but couldn’t see anything. Vetinari joined him.

“There,” he said, directing Sam’s sight.

Squinting, Sam could just make out some movement in the darkness. Damn, the man hadn’t been lying when he said he had great night vision. A few moments later and the movement became much more clear when a torch bearer broke out of the cover of the trees.. The flickering light illuminated a group of men, walking in twos and threes, all heading towards the camp. The sound of voices and laughter drifted through the woods to reach their ears, but they couldn’t make out what was being said.

“I’ll give it a short while for them to settle in and let down their guard, and then I’ll sneak over and check it out,” Sam told Vetinari.

The tall man turned, and moved over to the table. “I’ll accompany you.”

“There’s really no need.”

It was dark, but Sam didn’t need to see to know what expression would be on the pale face. “I’ve come all the way out here, Sir Samuel. Why would I elect to remain behind now?”

Choosing not to answer so he had some chance of retaining his job, Sam stalked over to his chair and threw himself in it. He heard the sound of water being poured and a moment later a mug was being placed in his hands.

“Drink your tea, and stop sulking,” Vetinari told him.

Seeing little other option, Sam did as he told. He wished he could have a smoke, but the chances of the glow being seen was just too risky. He slurped at the luke warm tea, not attempting to keep the scowl from his face. 

After about an hour had passed, Sam stood. “Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

Vetinari followed him on silent feet, and they made their way towards the camp. He moved slowly, not as sure on his feet in the woods as in the city. Vetinari was a ghost, and darted out in front, melting from shadow to shadow. Before he reached the circle of light surrounding the camp, Vetinari stepped out and placed a hand on his chest, stopping him. “These aren’t your smugglers, Sir Samuel,” he murmured.

“What?” Sam whispered. “How do you know?”

“Trust me.”

“Not bloody likely,” he growled. “I’ve come halfway to the Ramtops, I’m not going to get this far and then turn back when I’m only a few feet away because you say that they’re not the smugglers.”

“I’m telling you, Sam, these are  _ not _ the men you’re looking for.”

Ignoring the use of his first name, Sam pushed past Vetinari and stalked towards the circle of light. He stopped dead as his eyes took in the scene. “Oh. Right,” he managed to say.

“To be fair, it’s entirely possible that they have  _ something _ smuggled up there,” Vetinari said in his ear. “I mean, I have heard that drugs are sometimes smuggled via stuffed Sonkies…” He cocked his head to one side, “Though I would think that doing that would damage any...goods.”

Sam felt his cheeks flaming, but he was unable to tear his eyes away. 

“Oh my, they seem to have formed a sort of...chain,” Vetinary said, continuing his commentary, his breath hot in Sam’s ear. “I wouldn’t have thought that they’d be able to keep up any regular momentum when they’re thrusting like that. It almost appears as if they’re defying physics. Quite remarkable when you think about it.”

“You’ve made your point,” Sam said in a strangled whisper. 

“I’m guessing this is a regular event,” the tall man continued mercilessly. “They seem to be very organised. They’ve bought cushions, and blankets, and yes, why that does appear to be several tubs of lubricant. I wonder if they store it here or bring it with them? I’d guess that most of these men are married, and surely their wives know nothing of this? My guess is they store it here. It would be rather suspicious if they carted it through town on their way out here. Having said that, they’d have to have some sort of ruse in place? A hunting trip no doubt. That seems to be the least suspicious way for a group of men to spend time alone in the woods.” He paused, and Sam was uncomfortably aware of how close they were standing. “Didn’t you say that you were posing as a hunter? I’m surprised they didn't invite you along?”

Focusing his attention on the individual's, Sam did indeed recognise several of the men from the tavern. He swallowed hard.

“I’m sure they would have enjoyed having you along to participate. New blood, so to speak. You would have been passed around from one man to the next, so they all got a turn with you.” His voice was velvet in Sam’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. “How long do you think you’d last, Sir Samuel? How many would have to take you before you were crying out for release? How many hands would have to caress you? How many mouths would have to kiss you, and lick you, and bite you, and suck you? How many cocks would have to be thrust into you? What would it take to have you panting, and begging for more?” A quiet moan escaped unbidden from Sam’s lips. “I see how you watch them. You can’t keep your eyes off them. Do you picture yourself amongst them, doing all that they do? Having all that they do done to you? How much do you want it, Commander? How much do you crave it? To be over there, under there, behind there? What would you give, right now, to be spread eagled on your back, with a strong body above you, thrusting into you with pure abandon?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop!” 

Vetinari stepped back. “Perhaps you should have taken me at my word,” he said in a much more normal tone of voice. Then he disappeared back into the woods. 

Sam stood there, breathing hard, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. His dick was painfully hard, and his blood was thrumming through his veins. He pulled himself into some semblance of control and stalked back towards the hut. He threw open the door, and could just make out Vetinari sitting at the table. Seizing him by the front of his shirt, he lifted the man from his chair and threw him against the wall. “What the fuck was that?” he growled, his face nose to nose with Vetinari’s. 

“A lesson,” was the reply.

Lost for words, Sam could just stare at the man. But then he figured that since Vetinari had come all the way out here because he was  _ bored _ , then he could bloody well make himself useful. “Listen to me very carefully,” he said in a low voice. “You are going to walk out that door. You are going to sneak into that camp, and you are going to retrieve one of those pots of lubricant. Then you are going to come right back here so you can do every one of those things you whispered into my damn ear. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir Samuel.”

“Go!”


End file.
